


Her

by GoodDalekPeppergrinderfromdowntheRiver



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 04:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9056023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodDalekPeppergrinderfromdowntheRiver/pseuds/GoodDalekPeppergrinderfromdowntheRiver
Summary: Don't read if you don't want Christmas episode spoilers The Doctor is dealing with the loss of his wife.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I don't know about you guys but the Christmas episode was beautiful and I loved all the subtle River hints, so I decided to write something.   
> Merry Christmas xxx

Her

“The world will be fine. I’ve been away for a while, but I’m back. I’ll take care of anything that comes up,” he reassures Grant and Lucy. He decided that he would not wallow in pity Instead he’d plunge straight into recklessness and adventure. He knew very well from experience that an idle mind would only make the grief he is so adamant to forget, more prominent.

“You’ve been away?” Grant asks. He mentally kicks himself. He didn’t mean to evoke curiosity.

“Huh Twenty for years, what a night,” Nardole says. He turns to look at the Doctor, however, seeing his scowl, he realises that it is the wrong thing to say. He knows very well that the Doctor is still licking his wounds. However, Nardole would have thought that talking about his great loss would be more of a comfort as opposed to running away. Obviously, he is wrong.

“Wrong question,” Lucy quickly says. “What was her name?”

The question is like two bullets to both of his hearts. He is in searing pain that he fears he will never recover from. His vision is rendered a little fuzzy from unshed tears and he knows that he must flee before the conversation develops. “I’m sure I must be busy, I better go.” Yes, he is perfectly aware that the memory of his maverick of a wife deserves to be preserved. He knows very well that his audience would be easily impressed and at awe if he told them about his wife. Who wasn’t? However, he can’t. He is just not ready yet. He probably will never be ready.

 

24 years on

 

_They lie in bed. So close but infinitely further._

_“I … I” he tries to say, but he cannot get the words out._

_“I know,” she says, squeezing his hand._

_He releases his hand from her grip, after all, quite soon, he will not have that comfort. He turns away from her. He does not want her to see the ugly fat tears cascading down his old face. It is ironic really – he had always scolded at her for insisting to hide the damage. It turns out that it is not exactly easy to share pain. And pain is what he is feeling. He is in complete and utter agony. His sturdy Time Lord hearts are breaking and he the love that consumes and ensnares him, is tearing him apart from the inside. He cannot bear to lose his wife. Not again._

_She however is not fooled. She wraps her arms around his waist and nuzzles her head in his neck. The intimacy is almost unbearable. Her touch is like fire to his frostbitten body. Normally, the cold welcomes the warmth like old friends. However, he is simply just too cold. The warmth stings and leaves him wanting to tear away. However, at the same time, he never wants to let go. It is a little confused and disorientated in his Time Lord mind._

_A little bit of light peeks in through the curtains and they silently acknowledge that they have a matter of seconds._

_She sighs, however it is shakily and he knows very well that she is being brave and fighting back tears._

_“I know… but I would like you to tell me,” she admits. “I would like you to face me and tell me,”_

_He summons all the courage he has to look at her. To look her in the eyes with his wet and forlorn eyes. For a second, she is aghast, but she adjusts rather quickly and caresses his cheek, looking at him as if he is the most beautiful creature that she has ever seen._

_“I … I love you River Song,” he admits. It feels like a burden off his chest finally admitting it. However, he is certain that he will have to suffer the cruel repercussions later. “I love you,” he repeats. Before she can respond, he kisses her desperately._

_Eventually, she pulls away. It seems that she too has succumb to tears. She sighs. “I am sorry my love,” she says before leaving him all alone. A broken and lost soul._

After she left, he has no idea what to do with himself.

He realises that he will be able to run. That he will probably find a new companion and thrust himself into adventure in an attempt to numb down the perpetual and debilitating grief. Despite offering himself reassurance, he cries. Completely unashamed and forlorn. The grief is just way too much.

Once upon a time, he’d been resistant to touch and emotions. Once upon a time, he was a sad man in a box, carrying the guilt upon his back. He was lost and lonely. Then one day, he was washed away by a River and he temporarily forgot about all the ills, faults and suffering of the past and all to come because of the love of a good woman.

Alas, all songs must end.


End file.
